Get together of poets

An informal, small, and friendly setting to read our poems in.

No need to be a professional

If interested let me know.

Hate

I hate to wake up so early in the morning to go to work, and just thinking “well, that’s the way of the world,” or “that’s just the way things are,” is not enough to justify to myself the waking up of so early in the morning.

I hate to wake up early in the morning, and the though, “I’m not lazy,” doesn’t quite give me the satisfaction to make up for the fact that I hate to wake up so early in the morning.

I hate to wake up early in the morning because I do it for something I don’t really care much about, and for people I don't know, and the thought, “I’m a productive member of society,” doesn’t quite give me the incentive to do it so early every morning.

I hate waking up early in the morning. I don’t mind working, but I hate it that I have no choice and can’t do it when I want to; I have to do it everyday for five days a week because I have to buy food, pay for my roof, and buy clothes (they got me by the balls).

While we can

Let’s not rush to decadence where we have to explain our opulence

Let’s stay hungry—not starving

Let’s shake and agitate

Let’s not drown from too much and let’s not perish from severe lack

In the meantime

Let’s express ourselves while we have coherence

The time may come when we’ll be too close to our source and we will make sense no more

Let’s spend our energy now that we have it

The time may come when once it disperses, it does not return again

Laugh now as often and as loud as we can

Because later the funny will elude us

Cry and be emotional now that we can

Because later the numbness won’t let us

Be foolish now while we can because later we’ll have to explain ourselves

Clipped-winged wonder

It is like looking at you through a window

You are like us, a

And how we dance

We, the clipped-winged wonders

Sometimes awkwardly

Sometimes in tune

Sometimes out of whack

Sometimes even sublimely

But always touched by a hint of the grotesque

We are what we are

So I look at you as if through a window

Sometimes you seem close

Sometimes hopelessly out of reach

But there you are      there you are

Dream

I dream of the day when people will realize the pointlessness of their oppressive ways, a day when people will realize that even though their bodies mature (because no body wins the fight against time), their selves remain spiritually childish (and some of us even remain mentally so).

I dream of the day when people will finally break their boundaries and zip past this artificial delay. We want the most toys and we want to dominate. We are children in a playground un-sophisticatedly going through life.

Planet wanderer

I’m a street writer

I get inspired outdoors

You probably saw me somewhere with a backpack on

and a beer in my hand

You probably saw me taking a notepad and a pen out and putting words down on paper

You saw me rolling a cigarette and you probably thought nothing of me

But you did not see me for long because I go places: I’m a street writer and a planet wanderer

Of course we feel bad

Of course we feel bad sometimes

We haven't always made the right choices

But it is not something the lights reflecting on the tiny ripples of the water cannot handle and make feel better

It isn't anything that the greenery of the spring season cannot deal with

The wild flowers cannot soothe

The overflowing green leaves – along rivers and parks – cannot alleviate

The drinking of a beer – or two or three – in the afternoon cannot ameliorate

Or the smoking of the occasional cigarette cannot lessen

Of course we feel bad sometimes, but it's nothing the lonely stars of the city of Berlin cannot identify with

Yes we feel bad, but the weeping willow understands